


is it better than keeping my mouth shut

by hrtbnr (kiden)



Series: still care about mixtapes [6]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Fake Chop, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/pseuds/hrtbnr
Summary: no one dies in this fic. it's just after-job drama and fluff and dumb boys.





	is it better than keeping my mouth shut

**Author's Note:**

> idk im sorry

There’s a lot of things James has always kept to himself.  It’s just part of the job; shutting your mouth save lives. It’s imperative to keep all the shit you think, all the random thoughts and paranoia and urges, to yourself, unless it’s absolutely necessary to share it.  What’s good for the crew always comes first. Always. And loose lips sink ships, or whatever the fuck. 

James is good at his job because he knows when to shut the hell up, and knows when not to, but Aleks has got him all twisted up and there’s not a single moment he knows what to do about it.  Doesn’t know when to shut up or when to say something. When to close the distance between them or keep away. He looks at Aleks from across the warehouse, the back of the van, the couch in his apartment, and has no fucking idea what should be coming out of his mouth. 

But he  _ thinks.  _ Thinks in Aleks’ direction so hard hoping he can make him understand without explaining any of it.  

When Aleks is curled on the couch with Mishka at his side and Ein on the floor in front of them, wearing a tank top and shorts, and James can’t stop staring at the inside of his knee.  How soft he knows the skin there is and how Aleks likes when James starts there when making his way up the inside of his thigh with kisses. 

That he likes the way Aleks looks when he doesn’t know he’s being watched.  The way his face opens up, his eyes bigger and brighter, watching those stupid fucking drama shows on basic cable. 

Wishes he could just  _ tell  _ Aleks that his apartment might as well be empty when him and Mishka and Celia aren’t there, that he’s a ghost that moves from room to room and doesn’t know what to do until Ein barks at him and he remembers he has to feed her, or walk her, or throw the ball around for a bit. 

He wants to tell him, wishes he knew how, that Aleks makes him  _ weak _ and it’s terrifying how bad he wants it.  How good it is. That being as vulnerable as Aleks makes him feel is better than every drug, every heist, every time he’s hit the perfect shot. 

“Asshole,” Brett says, snapping his fingers in front of James’ face. “ _ Hey _ .”

“What?”

Brett sighs but it lifts at the end into a fond chuckle that’s fucking annoying. “You’re bleeding all over me,” he says, and takes the hoodie from James’ sticky fingers to put pressure on the wound himself. “So  _ smitten _ you’re letting yourself bleed-out just to stare at the back of his head.” 

“It’s a nice head,” James says, and barely grunts when Brett manhandles him into a better position. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “The blond grows on you, I suppose. Stay awake.” 

James hums.  Lindsey’s driving fast but they’re still a bit away from the safe house and Aleks is sitting next to her in the front and not yelling at her to go faster. He’s not shooting out the window, which means they’re not being followed.  James has been looking at him, but Aleks hasn’t turned around to look back. 

His hands are braced against the dashboard but still look like they’re shaking. The side of his face is red and when he turns to look at Lindsey, James can see how wet his cheeks are. The way the streetlights reflect off of it.

“Don’t leave him alone,” James says and tries to swallow but his throat is too dry. His fingers are slippery with fresh blood when he wraps them around Brett’s hand, and he says, “I’m serious. Don’t… don’t let him.”

“Stop that,” Brett says gently, lets James keep holding his hand. “Put a cork in the drama, okay?”

The way Aleks looks in the morning is fucking breathtaking.  The way the sun makes his skin look, how he wakes up slowly, rubbing his feet together, shifting, stretching, burrowing back into the pillows like he’s trying to chase the long-gone night.  The soft sound he makes when James presses a kiss to his warm shoulder, like he’s remembering where he is and who he’s with and feels  _ relieved.   _

“Made you happy, right?” 

“James, shut the fuck up,” Aleks says, and still doesn’t turn around. “Shut the  _ fuck _ up.”

“Tag in,” Brett says and grabs Aleks by the back of his jacket when he shakes his head. “Get back here, you idiot.” 

All the moving around  _ hurts  _ but then Aleks is pressing his hands where Brett was, trying to keep James’ blood in his body, and it doesn’t feel so bad anymore. James always kept a lot of things to himself, he  _ had  _ to. Had to so they’d all be safe. So he’d be safe. 

“You know what?” Even he can hear how bad he sounds, how slowly his words are tumbling clumsily out of his mouth.  Aleks hums. So James says, “I like your knees.”

“Excuse me?” Aleks almost laughs _.  _ He  _ smiles.  _ And the entire world gets so bright James has to close his eyes. 

“I like your - I like you. I like everything.” 

“You’re not dying, James,” Aleks says, and one of his hands comes to stroke across his sweaty forehead, he wraps his fingers around some of the loose blond strands, another place where they match. “No deathbed confessions you can’t take back, okay? Just fucking shut your mouth.” 

“I’d marry you,” James says, because it’s what he’s thinking. What he’s always thinking, between the jobs and the do-nothing hours, Aleks reloading a smoking shotgun, orange in the light of a fire, and pressing his feet against James’ shins, too cold from the air conditioning, as he giggles.  There’s moments, and words between all of that, and James wants to say them, wants to live in them, wants to tell Aleks he loves him. Says he’d marry him instead. 

Aleks’ chest shakes like a laugh, and he leans down to kiss James’ forehead, and cheek, and then his mouth. And James kisses him back, slow and like it’s his last.  Even though Aleks says it’s not, and he can’t imagine why he’d lie. 

“I might hold you to that. I don’t give a shit if you’re delirious,” he says, and they both rock unsteadily, nearly falling off the seat, as the Lindsey slams on the brakes. 

“Do it, bitch,” James whispers, and grabs at Aleks’ hand and jacket. Holds him as tightly as he can. “If I’m not dead in the morning fucking hold me to it.” 

The sliding door opens, lets in a cool breeze, and Aleks’ face is almost dry.  Brett grabs him roughly under his arms and yanks, pulls James out of the van and up the gravel walkway to their least favorite safehouse. But the stars are out. It’s a clear night. And Aleks is smiling and shaking his head, kicking up rocks into James’ shins as he follows them and the trail of blood.

“I’m gonna,” he says. “Don’t think I fucking won’t.” 

“I want you to,” James says, and makes himself grin. “Marry the shit out of me, you pussy.”

“Why do I never get shot?” Brett says, grunting as he lifts James up the stairs. “Always a bridesmaid.”

Aleks laughs and James is  _ weak,  _ bleeding and maybe dying, and feels alive. 


End file.
